Fall to Pieces
by chb76
Summary: Set just after Something Wicked, Dean's torturing himself over past mistakes and Sam's on his case like an angry dog with a bone. Quite a lot of angst, tears and some language which is why it's T rated. No slash or Wincest. Now comlete.
1. Chapter 1

This my first ever fanfic and probably a load of rubbish but something bugged me about the ep "Something Wicked" when Dean blamed himself for the kiddies getting bumped off and I just got the urge. Not sure if it's slightly AU (hope not) as it assumes some kids actually died post Dean's first encounter with the Shtriga and I'm not 100 sure if any did. More chapters coming soon I just have to tweak. Hope it doesn't suck too much.

Update 1/4/07 I changed the format of this at the suggestion of a reviewer who said it was a bit hard to read. What can I say I'm a newbie. Hope this is better and thanks for the advice.

**Fall to pieces**

**Chapter 1**

Another job over and he's feeling pretty fried and somewhat drained. The wheel is hurting his hands and he wonders why until he realises it's actually him because he's gripping it so damn hard. His hands his jaw and his head all ache, he guesses from all the clenching, he supposes he should try and relax somewhat, otherwise _someone_ might notice and start asking questions. Always with the questions. He can practically _feel_ him looking at him, now and again quick sly little glances like as if he doesn't notice.

"Dude, I know I look hot in this shirt but can you quit ogling me, it's creeping me out."

He notices Sam shake his head, annoyed then look out of the window. Then some minutes later steals another glance. He wishes he would quit looking at him, just keep those eyes front on the road and off of him and just knock it off.

Sam can always read him like he just knows like he can see inside him. Psychic Boy. Smart ass. Geekboy with far too much brains. Everyone else falls for the act, the confidence the charm the cockiness, self assured bullshit but not Sam. Not Sammy. Although right now he wishes more than anything he could hide that shit from his brother because this wasn't helping and it wasn't going away and it would never feel better.

He'd wasted the thing, killed it. It can't take anyone else now no more kids, no more lives. And he's finally made it up to his brother for letting him down all those years go. No. He could never make up for that, not ever but at least it had been put right. It was dead, over.

Except for all those kids he couldn't save, the ones he'd failed because all he wanted to do was play on those stupid arcade games and get away from that room and his whiny little brother just for a few hours. He buried the guilt all this time because if you didn't it would eat you alive and he couldn't do his job that way, couldn't be the soldier his Dad wanted him to be. No, the only thing he could do was never let it happen again, never leave his brother, never ever leave him alone again.

He's a man now, all grown up and he's seen and done so many things, slept with so many girls and even fallen in love. Once. So many things that they would never do because he had robbed them of that in his failure to obey that one fucking order.

He'd been able to forget and carry on because if you don't actually see the faces of those you've killed its easier to forget, to pretend it never happened but seeing those kids in the hospital with their moms and dads and brothers and sisters, lost and desperate and dying with no hope and no answers, it had kicked him in the gut and left him on the floor gasping.

And of course there was Jessica. It was when he'd returned to the hospital alone after speaking with Hydecker – after Sam had worked out he was the Shtriga - and he'd noticed one of the kids wasn't in a coma - just admitted apparently after her parents had burst into her room to find her distressed and screaming not comatose like the others which made him curious and he remembers vividly how they'd made eye contact and everything inside him told him to keep walking but for some reason he'd ignored the voice in his head and approached the small, frail child lying in the hospital bed with her bright blue eyes and copper hair.

She'd smiled at him and he'd smiled back and he'd taken her tiny hand in his and asked her name. She'd said it was Jessica but that he could call her Jess because that's what her friends called her and it had pretty much broken his heart right there.

He'd asked her where her mom was and she'd told him that she'd gone to the bathroom but promised that she'd be back soon. He'd asked her if it hurt and she'd smiled and said that sometimes it did but not right now and that she tried not to cry because it upset her mom but sometimes she couldn't help it because it really, really hurt and he'd told her that she was very brave and reached down and pushed a strand of red hair off her pale forehead. She'd frowned then and asked him why he was so sad and he'd looked away realising that there was fluid filling up in his eyes. She'd taken his hand again and squeezed it telling him not to be sad because her mom had told her she would get well soon and so would all the other kids and that she just had to be brave and keep thinking good things.

A woman he assumed was her mother had shown up then her eyes all red and face blotchy after obviously having spent too long in the bathroom secretly crying her soul out for the daughter that she hoped more than anything wasn't going to end up like all the others dying in their sleep. He'd shook her hand and told her they were doing everything they could and gave her his best wishes before turning to Jess and giving her one last smile and a wink before getting the hell out of there before he threw his insides up in front of everyone.

He'd told Sam about Jess but managed to sound objective with just the right amount of sympathy and Sam had smiled and nodded and Dean had thought to himself that he wasn't fooling anyone. He found out later that shortly after him leaving she'd slipped into a coma and died that night and he remembered wishing that he'd never spoken to her and never made that connection which had almost torn him apart. After finding out later that the Shtriga was definitely Hydecker he'd figured that he'd - it had probably finished her off that night. Another thing which he believed was his fault.

He'd kept the rest hidden, almost. Sam had seen a little of what he was hiding but he'd hoped that would be the end of it but now he can feel his eyes drilling into him searching for the truth pushing out the lies and the facade and homing in on the very thing he wants to keep hidden safe and out of the light. It's suffocating and he's struggling to breath and he doesn't know he's doing it but he pulls the car over stumbles out and paces up and down and up and down trying to control his breathing, until finally resting on the hood, his arms clasped tightly round his stomach because maybe it will help hold him together. He's breathing heavily now eyes clamped shut trying to regain his equilibrium trying to stay focused and calm and not completely lose it in front of his baby brother.  
"Dean?"  
Sam is there standing close by, but not too close but right there asking, searching for something which he has no hope of finding. He takes a deep breath and finds his voice:

"Sam I swear to you, if you touch me I will put your ass on the floor."

He doesn't even know he's saying it until it's too late the words escaping and damaging the one thing he can trust and rely on. Too late. He hurts everyone he loves; it's in his makeup - just something he does. It's easier than saying how you really feel; easier than spilling your guts and risking everything just for the chance to receive comfort - comfort which he doesn't need or deserve anyway. He senses his brother back off slightly and realises that any chance he had of telling Sam the very things he so desperately needs to has vanished forever and there was no going back now. He curses softly as he feels a single tear trace a path down his cheek and hopes Sam doesn't see. He brushes it away and draws in one last breath before turning and getting back into the car where silence will continue and this will never be spoken of again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It occurs to him not for the first, second or third time in his adult life that his brother could be a real jerk. Why does he always do this why? It's like he always has to protect him, just because their Dad said so, always protect Sam don't let anything happen to little Sammy. Well hey news flash, Sammy isn't little anymore and doesn't need protecting - not from that. Not from whatever it is that's torturing his big brother so badly that he can't even tell him.

It's not like he needs to, Sam knows what the problem is here. Sam can always tell what's wrong or at least that something _is _wrong. He knew there was something up from the start and the story Dean had told him which was supposed to help him understand why he always follows Dads orders had just resulted in him being even more pissed at the man who was supposed to protect them and tell them he was proud, not blame them, not make them feel inadequate.

He knows his Dad loves them and that he's proud - of Dean at least- and he tries to be sympathetic only being able to guess at what hell his Dad had gone through after losing his wife in the most unnatural and horrific way possible, but he still gets pissed, especially when he sees his Dad's effect on his big brother, the way he's so quick to shoulder the blame, the burden, the weight of the whole fucking world on his shoulders when all he should be worrying about is paying the bills, keeping in touch with friends and making his girl happy. Except Dean doesn't have a girl to be happy with or bills to pay or friends to worry about him. The job doesn't allow Dean Winchester much room for happiness or peace or comfort but he does have a little brother who is going to do his damnedest to make sure he doesn't torture himself anymore than he can possibly help.

Dean's closed down again now and he can't help him, but this isn't the end. Dean may think the matter is closed but Sam has other ideas. He bides his time until they've found a place to stay. A murky looking motel with grime on the walls and vinyl curling up at the edges but at least it's somewhere to rest. Sam lets Dean take care of checking in because that's his job isn't it? Taking care of business, looking after his brother, making sure everything is in order.

He catches the keys that Dean throws at him, looks back over his shoulder at his brother unloading the car before turning the key and entering. He wanders nervously round the room switches on the TV waiting for Dean who enters with their bags. Sam rifles through his bag looking for something he hasn't quite decided on and then glances up at his brother who glances back then takes off to the bathroom presumably to relieve himself.

Sam mentally shakes himself preparing himself for who knows what. He knows he could just lay on the bed watching TV and they'd both get something to eat then fall asleep and tomorrow it would be forgotten and he also knows that it would be another scar added to his brothers soul and that if he doesn't do this now then the chance will be lost forever and he will have failed his big brother again; the same brother who has for so many years protected him, put him first, looked after him, pulled his ass off the floor and not once -not _once - _let him down.

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He wonders sometimes if he'll ever be able to look in a mirror and like the person staring back. He sighs heavily, swallows the lump in his throat and tries to compose himself and stop the shaking that he's trying to hide from his little brother. How did he get here? When did the pain start to overshadow the good things in his life so badly that he refused to see them any more? When exactly did it become second nature to treat the people who care about him the most like shit? He laughs at his own self flattery. People? Surely person would be more appropriate. Seeing as his Dad isn't here and isn't showing any signs of being. You would think that as he only has two people in his life who actually know him well enough to say that they give a shit, he would take better care at keeping it that way. Maybe he really does want to die alone. He laughs at his self pity.

"Sam was right, you really are _pathetic._"

His reflection offers no sympathy no words of comfort and no excuses.

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Sam looks up from his position of sloth on the bed which is a lot more comfortable than it looks and sees his not so big, big brother come out of the bathroom to the sound of the toilet flushing. Nice one Dean, next time though why not fake the sound of yourself peeing too. As if wanting to rub it in that he knows why Dean really went to the bathroom

he says:

"Feel _relieved"_

_"Y_es. Thanks for asking".

Dean lies down on his bed as Sam goes through the motions of politeness giving Dean the chance to talk although he knows it's a waste of time and merely a courtesy.

"You OK?"

"Fine. You?"

"Fine. _**You**_?"

"Like I said already, I'm _fine," _Sam not phased or surprised gets up striding to the window summoning up enough anger to help him through this.

"You're so full of crap you know that man?"

"Excuse me?"

Sam spins round suddenly very pissed with his older sibling who is obviously trying his best to act casual and relaxed and like nothing happened and that everything is so fine fucking fine.

"Why do you always do this huh Dean?"

"Do ... what?" again with the casual slouch, flicking through the paper, eyebrow raised like he's totally clueless.

"This Dean! Act like you're _fine_ when your obviously not. Pretend that you don't need anyone when you do. And you never, ever let me help you!"

Sam feels his eyes sting with tears that he knows aren't just of anger or frustration. Dean pushes himself into a sitting position apparently concerned at Sam's distress but he still doesn't drop the act.

"You know Sam those pants make your ass look kinda big,"

"Dean, cut it out!"

"Dude? What's your problem?"

"_You're _my problem, Dean. But unfortunately you seem to think that I'm yours and it's not a two way situation."

Dean looks puzzled now and he thinks that maybe he's getting somewhere but he knows he has to stay focused, quit with the whining and stay stern and harsh because that's the only way he'll reach him.

"Sorry man, now you've completely lost me." Dean returns to his paper and the rage returns to Sam and he feels like he could grab his brother and shake him until he rattles. He uses the anger to press on knowing he's on thin ice but drawing on courage from somewhere inside.

"I'm talking about earlier Dean and you know it. Back there on the damn road. What the hell was all that crap about." He sees his brother flinch slightly thus confirming he's on the right track. He knows he's pushing his luck and maybe being too harsh, too cruel but his brother needs a verbal slap in the face right now not molly coddling. Hell maybe he should just go for it and actually slap him in the face. He smiles to himself imagining what reaction that would get and decides that neither he nor Dean needs to get into a fist fight right now.

"I thought I made it clear it wasn't open for discussion," his eyes still skimming the newspaper.

"Yeah, well I guess you didn't," The sarcasm in his own voice makes him cringe inwardly but still he presses on.

"Oh yeah, sorry, the great Dean Winchester doesn't need to talk about his 'feelings' cos that's stuff for chicks and wimps right?!" He can hear is voice getting louder which scares him.

"Well excuse me for being all sensitive and noticing Dean, but I seem to remember you crying back there!" again yelling at his big brother is making him uneasy, unsure of where this is going to end and suddenly aware that he's torturing his brother, forcing him to face that what makes him ashamed and his anger disappears as he settles on the window sill finding himself looking at Dean's back who's turned round to face the door.

"Dean?" his voice barely makes it to a whisper but he waits patiently for Dean to make the next move then laughs at himself for actually thinking that will ever happen.

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He's thinking fast how to escape this but there's no way out except the door. He so doesn't want to do this right now. Or ever for that matter. This isn't what he does, can't Sam get that? Dean's job is to be strong and take care of his little brother. He has no problem comforting Sam, being there for him, coaxing him out of his nightmares just as long as Sam doesn't expect him to share because that is not what he does. How can he stay strong and protect Sam, save Sam if he breaks. If he stops for a moment to reflect on the things he's done and caused with his stupidity and carelessness and selfishness what will it achieve anyway. What good will it do exactly if he were to sit opposite Sam, look him in his puppy dog eyes and humbly admit that yes he hates himself and yes if it wasn't for Sam he would have wasted himself a long time ago and yes it hurts like hell and blah blah blah blah blah and then they would cry and hug and afterwards everything would be exactly the fucking SAME.

He doesn't have or want that luxury but it doesn't matter because he can carry on fine without it. Sam is just worrying his pretty little head about it far too much as usual and Dean knows how to stop it all; he just needs to get up off the bed and...

"I'm going for a walk - need some air,"

...leave.

_To be continued_


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for your reviews and kind comments and also for sticking with this. Hope you continue to enjoy…

**Chapter 3**

Dean has left him and therefore closed the matter. Unfortunately he hasn't reckoned on his brothers stubbornness and desperation and determination _not_ to let his brother down.

But he is so pissed right now he can hardly speak. He feels his heart racing as he pushes himself off the window sill and after his brother.

The sun's going down but it's not dark yet and Dean is half way across the parking lot when Sam catches up with him. Without thinking he grabs his brother's upper arm spinning him round so hard he almost stumbles.

"Damn it Sam!"

"Who the hell do you think you are man?" Sam's head is pounding in a red haze that scares the hell out of him while Dean cocks his head with that infuriating smirk pasted to his face which is causing his brother's anger to increase by the second not to mention his inappropriate attempt at humour:

"Umm...Luke Skywalker." He finishes off his quip with that smart ass grin of his as if it's at all possible to piss Sam off any more.

"Enough, Dean OK?"

"Do you think this shirt brings out my eyes?" he does that goofy little pout thing with his mouth, unfortunately amusing no one but himself.

"Dean. Just. Stop." he keeps his voice low trying to hold his temper.

"Just... leave it alone Sammy, OK?" he starts to turn away but Sam's words interrupt his movement, seeing that his brother is also angry now, but that isn't going to stop him, not by a long shot.

"No, Dean I won't leave you alone, not now, not ever. I'm sorry if you can't deal with that but that's just the way it is."

"What do you want from me Sam? You want a hug is that it? You think that's gonna make everything OK Sam? Cos the world's that nice? Well I've got a news flash for y' Sammy, the world _isn't_ nice. The world sucks." He turns in disgust and walks away again only to be grabbed and spun around for a second time, only this time Dean retaliates, shoving Sam hard in the chest causing him to stumble backwards.

At this precise point Sam's patience finally runs out and he's fighting the urge to allow his fist to connect with his infuriatingly stubborn big brother's jaw. Hurting Dean, though is the last thing he wants to do so he forces the clenched fist he's holding by his side to unravel and before he even knows he's done it, slaps his brother hard across the left side of his face and immediately feels like crap because he hadn't meant to hit him so hard but he's just decided that he won't let his brother shrug him off anymore and sooner or later someone has to back down and this time it isn't going to be him because he can't stand seeing his brother like this and he wants him to just stop.

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The blow falls sharp and fast across his left cheek, jerking his head and leaving a hot sting causing his eyes to instinctively close. The sound, a sickening crack disturbs the stillness of the evening like a gunshot ringing out from miles away.

He would've laughed because he's so shocked, but it hurts and it really isn't that funny anyway.

Trust Sammy to hit him like a girl. If roles were reversed it would've been a fist not an open handed slap.

He touches the heel of his right hand to his cheek holding it there for a few seconds before letting it drop away and he's annoyed to find his eyes are stinging and there's this feeling in his chest like his insides are about to explode and he's breathing heavily and he doesn't know how long he can hold on to it.

His entire body feels cold and he feels like he's falling really fast and he can't even look his brother in the eye and he wishes he could just disappear and never hurt or harm anyone again because right now all there is, is guilt and hate and regret and there is no way out.

He keeps his head averted for what seems like far too long trying to make the tears go away and when he does finally turn to face his brother what he sees in Sam's eyes is too much for him to take and it hurts so much more than any blow because his Sammy is staring right at him, his eyes mirroring the despair and hopelessness and all the things inside him, the things he wants to shield Sam from and he hates himself for not being able to stop the tear that escapes and slides down his cheek and onto the floor to mix with the dust and the dirt and it's enough to finish him completely and he decides that he's had enough and he can't hang on anymore and he can't do this to his baby brother because it's so obviously killing him.

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Sam stares at Dean, eyes wide and shell shocked, hoping praying he's got through to him and when he sees the tear slip down his brothers cheek- the same one he had just struck - it's all he can do to hold it together, because he's reached a point now where he can't go back but all he wants to do is sit in a room and cry for his big brother and everything that he's lost or been denied over the years and all the things he should have had which would've stopped him turning into someone who just can't forgive himself.

He watches his brother who nods slightly as if granting Sam absolution from what he's just done, as if saying to him in his own messed up way: "You were right, I deserved it," then slowly walks past him lightly brushes his shoulder as he passes and he thinks that he looks defeated and broken like a war weary soldier who can't, doesn't want to fight any more. He can't bring himself to watch his brother walk back to the motel room, he just stands there staring out to the horizon wondering what the Winchesters did to the world that made it treat one of them so harshly; cruelly denying him all the things that he so much deserved.

_to be continued_


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks so much for your reviews and lovely comments. You all made my day. This is now complete. Thought I'd get the rest finished and posted so's not to keep you hanging. Hope you enjoy….

**Chapter 4**

He collapses onto the bed, with his back against the head board, legs crossed head down visibly shaking. He thinks that maybe he's pushed his brother too far this time because he must have been really pissed to actually want to give him a smack. He hopes more than anything it's not too late and that he hasn't pushed Sam away forever because that would be pretty much it for him. He thinks to himself that maybe he doesn't deserve a second chance and that if he loses Sam he will only have himself to blame.

Those kids deserved a second chance but they didn't get one anyway. The ones who will never grow up because of him and his mistakes, his selfishness; the ones who's parents will never see their children grow into adults they could be proud of and love and dote on. He wishes so hard he could turn back the clock and this time, obey the order his Dad gave him, not fail his brother and his Dad and all the poor souls who that thing got its evil claws into after he screwed up the chance to destroy it for good. But he's not going to allow himself the luxury of tears or forgiveness because this - this hell he's in is what he deserves and there should be no respite or sanctuary or redemption. He got here all on his own and he has no right to any of those things.

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He walks back into the room dreading what he will see there and sitting on the bed in the same place he sat before is someone else, not his big brother, the legendary Dean Winchester, ghost hunter, heart breaker and all round great guy, not his protector, not his saviour but just a boy, frightened, lost and alone and as close to breaking point as he's ever been.

He feels his chest tighten his eyes sting and his heart aches because he wants so badly not to fail his brother now he's finally reached him, persuaded him to let him closer than arms length and he wants to say something profound and deep, some pearls of wisdom that can reach down and drag his brother from the hell he's made for himself, but as he carefully sits down on the bed, facing his brother, terrified of failing him he feels the hopelessness radiate off him and hang in the room like a dense fog threatening to smother them both. His normally active brain can find no words to take away what he knows his brother is feeling, what he needs no explanation for.

Because he knows.

It's always the same, always the guilt which will finish Dean off in the end because he's been taught responsibility and accountability and its entrenched within him so deep no one can remove it not even him. Sam blinks away a fresh bout of tears as he stares at the broken form of his older sibling.

"Dean," again the unshed tears make it impossible to speak much louder than a whisper.

"I'm sorry man. I'm sorry I hit you, I just..."

"Please Sammy - I've had _chicks_ slap me harder. And they were a lot hotter than you and twice as pissed. Though probably not as nuts; although of course there was that girl Holly with the handcuffs... uhhh."

Dean does a mock shudder and Sam's wondering if his brother really expects him to find this funny when there is no laughter within him and Dean's mask is back up and Sam thinks that he may well just lose it with his brother if he doesn't cut out this crap once and for all.

"Actually you know what Dean? I'm not sorry. In fact I wish I'd hit you harder!"

He wonders why Dean is pushing him like this, it's like he's trying his utmost to piss him off. Like he's trying to force Sam into saying things that they both know he doesn't mean.

He glares at Dean who looks away briefly in disgust and then glares back with a fury and defiance that doesn't quite reach his eyes which are now glistening and red rimmed. He leans forward and Sam can't work out if his brother is genuinely pissed or just trying to push him further away as he hisses furiously:

"Yeah? Well why don't y' have another shot?"

Sam's lost for words as he pulls back and so does Dean putting a little space in between them and Sam just looks away holding back tears he can't set free just yet.

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_please don't make me do this Sammy_

He can't afford to fall to pieces. He has to stay whole because if he breaks this time who knows if he'll be the same again. He's so scared if he lets go that will be it for him and there'll be no saving him and that means no saving Sam. Who will save Sam if he's in bits all over the floor? This can't happen and he looks round the room for somewhere to run somewhere to hide but there's nowhere and his brother is sat right in front of him.

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Sam notices the desperation and his brothers need to escape and thinks maybe he should just let him go, wondering if all this is worth torturing his brother for, but something makes him carry on and instead he puts a hand on each of Dean's upper arms holding him there letting him know gently but firmly, that he's going nowhere.

Dean is studying something apparently very interesting close to his lap and Sam sees a slight quiver to his chin and lower lip and he can feel his brother shaking underneath his hands. He swallows hard when he sees another tear escape and trickle down his big brother's face and plop onto the bed then Dean shakes is head slightly and what Sam hears next nearly rips out his heart.

"Sammy..."

His voice his cracked and raw and broken and he sounds so lost that Sam can only do one thing because there is no place for words or platitudes none of that will help right now so he simply takes hold of his brothers shoulders and slowly, gently pulls him towards him guiding Dean's head so that his chin rests on Sam's right shoulder. Sam loosely holds him there waiting patiently, not too tight letting Dean know he has him but he can pull away, escape if he needs to.

Dean doesn't move but just sits there arms limp for a short time until Sam can hear his breathing change from shallow to short hitching breaths which last a little longer than the silence, then eventually gentle sobs slowly increasing in force until his whole body is shaking and crying uncontrollably as if suffering some torture Sam doesn't want to think about.

Sam tightens his hold on his brother and slowly Dean's arms come up clutching Sam's shirt as the sobs grow harder and wrench at Sam's soul, echoing around the quiet dingy little room and as he feels his brother's arms and hands desperately tighten their hold on him, Sam feels what's left of his heart shatter and wonders if he even has the strength to hold the pieces of his big brother together while he cries in his arms.

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_They stayed like that for some time clinging to one another in the dimness of the small motel room lost and broken and all but demolished but not alone_.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Sam waits for Dean to let go first, wanting to hold on to his brother for as long as Dean needs to be held. He doesn't know how long it's been when Dean finally loosens his grip and starts to pull away. Sam doesn't let go completely holding on to his brother's arms waiting for something, he doesn't know what. He wonders if his big brother Dean is still in there because he's not looking at him, his head is down studying his lap again.

He's surprised to feel that his own face his wet - he wasn't even aware that he'd been crying so he removes a hand from Dean's arm and swipes it across his face to remove all traces. Dean's not crying any more but he can't see his face too well so he takes it in both hands to pull his head up to eye level and although he now has a better view he still won't look at him and he realises that this is far from over.

"Dean?"

He gets no response so he runs his thumb across his brother's cheek both in an attempt to get his attention and to wipe the last traces of tears away.

"Dean, I need you to look at me now," he's still whispering as if he's scared that by speaking too loud one of them might shatter like glass. He receives no response so repeats himself, his voice a little harsher than he'd intended:

"Come on Dean, look at me!"

The sternness in his voice appears to do the trick and Dean finally manages to make eye contact with Sam but he looks so lost and damaged he doesn't know if he can help him anyway.

"You ready to talk to me now?" the relief he feels at the slight nod is dampened only a little when Dean closes his eyes and pulls away, but Sam knows that this is unbelievably hard for his older brother and that maybe a little space is what Dean needs so he allows him to draw back, watches him pull his knees up towards his chest like a barrier between them and just sits there waiting until Dean is ready to speak.

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There is no fight left in him now he's done with all of it and this just seems like an inevitable conclusion but he has no idea where to start because his brother is waiting so patiently for him to spill the remains of his fucked up soul all over the floor like garbage.

He's surprised now at how much he desperately wants Sam to understand and how scared he is that he won't and it's a bit of an epiphany to him that that's why he can't talk about this in the first place because he's so scared of being judged, found wanting and then rejected and tossed aside by the one person he can't live without.

"I don't want you to hate me."

"That's not gonna happen. Ever."

"I could've stopped it. I didn't. I wasn't prepared."

"Dean you were a kid."

"That's not an excuse," he looks up briefly his voice raised, angry.

"You really think Dad blamed you for that? Did it ever occur to you that maybe it wasn't you he was mad at, but himself for leaving you there in the first place?"

If he's honest he has to admit that no, that hadn't occurred to him but he wants so badly for that to be true and wishes his Dad were here to confirm it, to tell him that he didn't blame him and that he had never really failed him and he thinks that he would give just about anything to hear his Dad tell him that.

"You nearly died."

"But I didn't and I wasn't your responsibility anyway,"

"That's where you're wrong Sam!" He's almost shouting but it's hard to shout when you're sat huddled up on a bed with your baby brother in your face trying his hardest to reach you and your throat's raw from all the crying that you just couldn't stop.

"It's not just about me and Dad though is it Dean?"

He wonders how the hell Sam does that, knows exactly what's going through his head without even the hint of a clue.

"What I did, to you… and to Dad – I'll _never_ forgive myself for that but..." he feels his voice break and the tears are returning but hell, a few minutes ago Sam was holding him while he cried like a baby so what's a few more going to hurt.

"But what Dean?" Sam's voice is so soft it nearly kills him.

"I still - I still have the both of you, at least I think….. I hope..." His voice trails off and he sees Sam look away his face tightening and he's terrified he's said the wrong thing until, Sam's head snaps back furiously and looks him square in the eyes:

"Let's just get one thing straight," his voice is hard now but he's still really quiet, so quiet it scares him.

"You and I will _always_ be brothers. You're my family, Dean and I'm not going anywhere. Nothing will _ever _change that. _You hear me?"_ The relief at hearing these words is overwhelming and he very nearly bursts into tears again but instead he just nods, bites on his lip and looks away as more tears prick his eyes. Irritated he furiously blinks them away only for them to be replaced by new ones when he realises Sam's not done with him and is still waiting for the rest.

He takes in a breath trying to hold himself together, for himself and his brother and finally accepts there's no escaping this.

"Those kids, in the hospital...The ones, before we got there, that didn't make it. And Jessica. And all the others from before, that we don't know about."

Sam nods at him as if willing him to go on.

"They were just kids, Sam. And they'll never get to grow up- because of me. Because I screwed up. Their parents will _never_ get over losing them. Not _ever. _All because _I_ screwed up."

He takes another breath because if he doesn't he may start bawling again and he's not sure how much of that Sam will tolerate and when he speaks again his voice is soft and he's not sure if he really wants to hear the response:

"What do you think they'd say to me Sam? The parents - if they knew. What would they say?"

His voice is breaking and he decides that that will have to be enough for Sam because he can't hold it together much longer and if he carries on he'll lose it again and if he starts again he's so afraid that he won't be able to stop.

He's more than a little confused when Sam just shakes his head sadly and looks away, and he wonders if he was wrong about Sam reading his thoughts, understanding him, and maybe he's said too much and now his little brother hates him as much as he hates himself.

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TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

He wonders to himself how his brother got to be so clueless and blame himself all these years for something that quite obviously, morally and logically wasn't his fault. He forces himself to go easy though as he knows all about his capacity for shouldering guilt and that fault really lies with their Dad. There's also the small fact that the nonsense of it all only occurred to him a short time ago and although he would never hold a young boy accountable for something that quite clearly wasn't his fault, he's become aware of another perfectly logical reason why Dean has no business blaming himself for the deaths of who knows how many innocent children.

He takes a deep breath knowing this will be difficult for Dean to take in, knowing he's been carrying this around with him nearly all his life.

"Dean, tell me something," he's not whispering anymore but he tries to stay quiet but firm. Dean looks up but not at him letting him know he has his attention but unable to look Sam in the eye and it angers him that he feels he has to hide, feel ashamed, knowing that the man in front of him as no reason in the world to feel any shame and in fact should be damn proud of himself.

"When you were a kid did Dad tell you what he was hunting, I mean before the Shtriga attacked me?"

Dean looks confused and Sam smiles to himself that he has no idea where this is going. He decides to rephrase.

"What I mean is did you know anything at all about that thing before you saw it?"

"No, not really why?"

"You told me that the only way to kill it was to wait until when it was feeding. That's when it was vulnerable."

Sam can see his brother just isn't getting it so he pushes a little harder bracing himself for the inevitable fallout that this will bring.

"So say you hadn't gone to play on the arcade games, say you'd stayed at home like a good little soldier, ready and prepared, not taken by surprise and you'd seen that thing come through the window; be honest with me, Dean, what exactly would you have done?"

Dean still isn't looking at him but he can tell by his expression that he's beginning to understand. He can see his jaw working and the tears returning to his eyes but he knows he has to keep going and that he has to get Dean to put this into words.

"Tell me Dean, without the knowledge you have now, at what point exactly would you have fired your weapon at that thing huh?"

Dean looks away shaking his head and blinking rapidly, but Sam keeps on and raises his voice so as to make sure the point reaches its target.

"Dean, answer me!"

His brother's response is sudden and full of fury and vehemence:

"The second I saw it! I would have fired at that thing the second it came anywhere near you!" Dean's voice is thick and Sam knows he's on the verge of tears again but he thinks that it's alright because he's got his little brother right here and he's not deserting him. Not again. Not ever.

"And what would've happened Dean?" his voice is soft again because he knows he's torturing his brother but this really has to be done.

There's a long pause and Dean opens his mouth to speak then changes his mind, again blinking back the tears that Sam knows he so desperately needs to release.

Another pause but Sam just waits knowing his brother can do this and willing him to with everything inside him.

And then finally Dean finds his voice at the precise moment his eyes give up on holding on to the tears which fall slowly as if granting him the redemption and forgiveness Sam knows he so desperately wants.

"It wouldn't have worked. It would have escaped anyway."

Sam nods smiling as the penny finally drops.

"There was never anything you could have done, Dean. You didn't know how to kill it. You didn't know."

At this point Sam's a little thrown as Dean pushes him out of the way and storms into the bathroom and without thinking he gets up and follows him because he's not leaving him alone, not now. He opens the door to see his big brother knelt before the toilet heaving and retching into the bowl, although there's very little there because Dean hasn't eaten for who knows how long but the dry heaves continue wrenching his brother's body cruelly, forcing him into another round of sobs.

He drops down next to Dean rubbing his brother's back, softly talking to him, letting him know he's not alone, until the retching ceases. Dean composes himself and uses the sink in front of him to pull himself to his feet turning on the tap and splashing his face with water. Seconds pass and there is nothing but silence except for Deans breathing but then to Sam's horror his big brother starts punching the mirror furiously with his fists.

He manages to get in three punches before his arms are grabbed by his much taller little brother who tries to pin them to his chest, but Dean's a lot stronger and he's losing the fight and his brother's bloody fists are about to make contact with the now broken mirror for a fourth time.

In desperation and using all of his strength he pulls Dean's arms hard behind his back talking softly, calmly into Dean's ear that he's got him and he's not letting go. Dean's still struggling but with less force so Sam adjusts Deans skinny wrists so that he's holding them with one large hand while the other comes around his chest holding tight not letting go, trying to sooth away the anger and bitterness and regret and all those years that his brother's spent hating and torturing himself.

Gradually Dean stops fighting and Sam loosens his hold on his wrists and guides him gently to the floor as his knees buckle, wrapping both arms around his distraught sibling pulling him into his chest and rocking him gently.

Resting his chin on Dean's head and letting his own tears soak into his brother's hair, he whispers just one thing before allowing the sounds of Dean's sobs to echo around the small bathroom.

"I've got you Dean, you can let go now."

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TBC


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue **

He wakes, eyes squinting, to find he's in bed and it's just getting light and he can't remember how he got there. Then after a split second his stomach drops as the memories of last night bombard his mind, the memories of him losing control and breaking down in front of his baby brother. He closes his eyes waiting for the sickening feeling in his gut to subside before sitting up and rubbing his face awake at which point he notices his hands are all bandaged up. He stares at them for a few seconds, shame turning his stomach as he remembers. His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of running water and he realises Sam is already up and in the shower. He sighs thinking what a baby he had been and what the hell must Sam think of him now and then he hears a voice inside his head which sounds a little like Sam, telling him not to be an ass.

By the time Dean's eyes are fully open and the bleariness has gone Sam is walking out of the bathroom a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair all wet.

"Hey, you're awake,"

"Apparently,"

"How you feeling?"

"A little sore," he gives his brother a lopsided grin and holds his hands up by way of an explanation. He expects Sam to lay into him for being such an idiot but instead he just smiles sympathetically.

"What happened anyway? How did I..?" he still doesn't know how he got into bed.

"You pretty much cried yourself to sleep - so I er- put you to bed." Sam shrugs and smiles, his voice light trying to make it sound like it's no big deal that Dean fell asleep in his little brother's arms after sobbing himself into exhaustion.

"You _undressed_ me?" He's more than a little embarrassed but tries to sound horrified and disgusted but Sam's unfazed.

"Please, I've done it before. That time when you got wasted with those guys from the kids' home, and you couldn't even stand up to take a pee..."

"Yes, yes thank you," he holds up a hand to stop Sam in his tracks reluctant to relive that moment from his teenage years but secretly grateful to Sam for making light of the highly uncomfortable situation they both seem to be in.

He tries not to look embarrassed. It's gone way too far for that anyway. Sam walks past him to his bed and puts some clothes on while Dean gets up and takes a shower and neither of them says any more.

He stands face upwards in the shower letting the water strip away the previous night's events easing the tension and melting away the shame he still feels for letting himself go - allowing himself to be comforted when he knows he should be the strong one. He wonders briefly if maybe, he should, just this once, give himself a break, he is human after all. He smiles to himself:

_Sammy's making you soft_

When he's done he's surprised to feel a little less like shit and thinks that can only be a good thing. Walking out of the bathroom he sees Sam sitting in the chair by the window casually reading a newspaper. He doesn't even look up before he starts to speak:

"So I was thinking that we could go get some breakfast then maybe just chill for a few days,"

"Sam,"

"I haven't found any jobs anyway so I thought maybe it's time we took a vacation,"

"Sam," he repeats himself a little louder although knowing full well his brother had heard him the first time.

"What?" he looks up at him his eyes soft and full of compassion, silently telling him he doesn't have to explain himself or feel ashamed or embarrassed and he thinks to himself what the hell did he do to deserve such an amazing little brother.

"You don't have to do this, Sammy."

"Do what?"

"Act like nothing happened, walk on eggshells - I'm - I'm ok- I mean I _will _be - you don't have to worry that I'm gonna crack or something." Sam smiles a little sadly and Dean thinks he looks like he could do with some cheering up.

"And don't think that after last night I'm all of a sudden gonna start showing my feminine side and go around hugging you all the time either. Last night was - well it was one hell of a night and frankly - I'm all chick flicked out."

Sam laughs a little shaking is head.

"Oh and another thing- if you ever _slap_ me again I am so gonna haul your ass down to the nearest gym and give you some boxing lessons,"

Sam looks up, apparently puzzled:

"What you'd prefer it if I'd punched you?"

"Well duh? Yeah, I mean - man you are such a _girl_."

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Sam shrugs, slightly amused and thinks to himself _well what did you expect_ but is secretly relieved to have his brother back in one piece, if a little scathed and traumatised from all the chick flicking.He continues reading while Dean gets dressed and then looks up as his brother switches on the TV and then almost straight away switches it off again his forehead crinkled by a slight frown. Sam puts the paper down as loudly as he can and turns to his brother:

"_What_?"

"What?"

"Dean," he puts just enough warning into his voice and is a little surprised to see Dean's shoulders drop and hearing his sigh of defeat he thinks optimistically that maybe things have changed.

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Dean thinks to himself how great it isn't that Sam has got to him. Again. He gives in without a fight thinking he may as well just spill his guts as his brother is apparently taking no shit from him these days.

"I was just thinkin'. What do you think the deal was with Jessica?"

"What do you mean?"  
"I mean, like why she wasn't comatose and how come she died so quickly. Most of the kids that were admitted around the time we showed up survived. Why not her?"

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Sam looks at Dean knowing exactly where this is going and sighs in frustration at his brother's inability to let himself off the hook.

"You think that Hydecker- the Shtriga got to her because he saw you talking with her and now you're blaming yourself because there's nothing else for you to beat yourself up about?"

Dean just stares at the bed and says nothing.

"I don't know why she wasn't comatose, maybe her parents interrupted the feeding process or maybe she had something about her - maybe she was stronger than your average eight year old. It doesn't really matter, Dean you couldn't have saved her. I mean short of sitting in the hospital with a big gun like a psychopath on crack waiting for him - which wouldn't have worked anyway considering the fact you would have been arrested on sight - there was nothing you could have done. Can you please just accept that you weren't to blame for any of this and for once give yourself a break?"

Dean looks at him sadly.

"She was a brave little kid,"

Sam just nods because like his brother he has also had to come to an acceptance. An acceptance that Dean will never completely forgive himself and that a part of him will always be wondering if he could've done something else. That's just who his brother is and he can't change that. He looks away briefly, feeling more than a little depressed that he didn't manage to fix his big brother, and realising that there are parts of him that just can't be fixed and scars that will never heal.

He looks back at his sibling and decides that Dean isn't quite ready to venture outside just yet and so gets up and heads for the door.

"Where you going?" Sam swears he detects a slight panic in his older brother's voice.

"I'm gonna go get us some breakfast. Thought we could eat in today. What do you think?"

"Yeah, whatever,"

"Dean," his brother looks at him but he can't think of anything to say and Dean seems to understand and steps in for him.

"Bagel with bacon and ketchup. _No cheese_." Sam smiles and shakes his head as he turns for the door but stops at the sound of his name.

"Sammy?" his voice his soft and sounds a little sad.

"Yeah?" his brother his looking him in the eyes and he swears he sees them filling up and he feels his own eyes sting in sympathy.

"I just, I mean about you know – last night? I wanted…."

There's a brief pause as Dean shakes his head annoyed but Sam just waits and his patience doesn't go unrewarded.

Dean looks back at him eyes glistening:

"Thanks. For... you know."

"Anytime, Dean." Sam smiles a little and is about to leave but he senses that Dean isn't finished so he walks over and sits down on the end of his brother's bed.

Dean hesitates but somehow finds his voice:

"Sam look, I know I can be an ass sometimes,"

"Sometimes?"

"Shut up," Sam smiles again because he's missed this banter between them and was so afraid they wouldn't get it back. There's a pause as Dean gives him 'the look' and then starts again.

"I know that I treat you like crap and I push you away, but it doesn't mean that I…."

A long pause

"You know,"

"What?"

"You're really getting a kick out of this aren't you?"

"So much," Sam can't help but laugh but feels more than a little guilty.

Dean looks away and sighs, giving up and Sam suddenly takes pity on him and decides his big brother has suffered enough.

"I know."

He says it deliberately making sure Dean gets it and he's rewarded by a look of gratitude from his brother that speaks more than he could ever say with words forcing a smile from Sam who is really getting tired of finding his eyes filling with tears. He pushes himself up after slapping his brother's leg lightly and finally heads for the door until not for the first time in the last twenty four hours Dean surprises him:

"Love you little brother." He turns around to see Dean fiddling with the batteries in the TV remote pretending that he hasn't said anything of the sort and he's so shocked he can't bring himself to make fun of his normally emotionally phobic brother and returns the sentiment with only a moment's hesitation.

"I love you too Dean," and then is forced to roll his eyes and attempt to hide the huge grin threatening to take over his features when he hears the inevitable insult exit his brother's smartass mouth as he casually pops the back on the remote and switches on the TV:

"Y' big dork,"

And Sam's comeback doesn't miss one, single beat:

"Jack ass."

Then he closes the door behind him and that's the last time they speak until Sam returns with breakfast for them both and they sit together at the small table by the window in comfortable, companionable silence with only the sound of the TV in the background, airing the regional news of a local girl who died in her sleep after losing her two year battle with leukaemia.

_The disease had returned after a period of remission but the brothers, lost in their thoughts didn't hear or see the picture displayed of a pretty auburn haired girl of around eight years old._

**End**

_Not sure about the ending, but I kind of needed to explain why she wasn't comatose other than the obvious reason that I needed her awake in order to make Dean feel even worse._

_I'm a bitch like that._

_Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed._


End file.
